


riduurok

by ellfie



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, Mando'a, Pre-Canon, Wedding Gifts, before the purge, cleaning out my drafts, getting married without taking off your helmet, happy mando times, he doesn't completely succeed, if only millennials could get a new house this easily, it's not breaking the rules of the keeper says you can, paz tries to be a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellfie/pseuds/ellfie
Summary: Up popped an image of another Mandalorian, information appearing at her side. Kanna’Rok Tahl. Foundling. Devaronian. Her image spun around slowly as the text flickered, offering up her age, date of birth, height, weight, blood type, DNA, identifying armor features, history of her time with the clan and her time before. Her completed trainings, her proficiencies. Everything there was to know about Kanna’Rok, hovering before him.Din looked up. “What is this?” Had she gone rogue? Betrayed them? Was he supposed to get rid of her quietly?“Your riduurok.”Din stared. Surely he had misheard. “I--” his throat was dry, and he had to start over. “I am not married. I have no such bond.”The Keeper pushed the file closer. “Which is why I have arranged it.”
Relationships: Din Djarin & Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), din djarin/kanna
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	riduurok

**Author's Note:**

> back in like, January, someone on the Mando Thirst server suggested arranged marriages, and my mind just ran with that. unfortunately, i'm awful at finishing shit. so this has been sitting in my docs half done for MONTHS. I figured, with season 2 coming out this month, might as well at least post what I got...
> 
> That said, a few notes to keep in mind: we're playing fast and loose with canon here, and this is well before the show and "the purge." In this verse, Mandalorians have arranged marriages to keep the people going when their numbers dwindle. Keepers (who keep the files and information details of every mandalorian) pair two people together based on their emotional and physical compatibility. You are certainly allowed to marry by choice, but if a Keeper assigns you a partner, that is your partner.
> 
> also, i'm a wreck and my tenses are all over the place

The day had been long with training and scouting, and Din was eager to settle down for the night. The few younglings the clan had were progressing well, but the threat of war looming on the horizon had everyone on edge. Their numbers had dwindled, many Mandalorians already called off into battle, squads disappearing into space to fight and never returning, for better or worse. Din wondered just how many of his brethren were born into this way of life, because it seemed more often than not now, their Creed was spread by taking in orphans.

Din’s already halfway through taking off his armor when a knock startles him into shoving his helmet back on. “What?”

There’s a respectable pause before someone opens the door, and the familiar figure of blue armor fills the frame. “The Keeper wants to speak to you,” Paz says.   
  
Din spins around to face him fully, all thoughts of relaxing gone. “What?”   
  
Paz snorts. “You heard me.” He steps back and aside, clearly waiting for Din to exit, and then falls in step behind him once he does. “What’d you do?” 

Din is wondering the same thing, but Paz isn’t helping with how cheerful he sounds. “Nothing.”   
  
“Oh, yes, because doing  _ nothing _ garners the direct interest and interference of the Keeper themselves.” Paz nudges him roughly from behind, and Din grits his teeth so not to rise to the bait. “Maybe you’ve finally fucked up enough to get stricken from history.”   
  
“Oh, so you’ve already been cleared from the datalogs?”

Paz shoves him in the shoulder this time, making Din stumble and growl. “You’re still a brat, Djarin, no matter how many years it’s been since they brought you here.”    
  
Din grits his teeth, watching him from the corner of his vision. Paz was one of the few whose blood was of the clan for generations, a fact he took great pride in, despite the saying he heard often,  _ Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la _ . Nobody cares who your father was, but the father you will be.

They’re out on communal ground now, somewhere too obvious to start a fight over something as juvenile as name calling, so with difficulty Din sucks in a breath and ignores the larger man, and just continues marching towards the Keeper’s hut, grateful when Paz wanders elsewhere. Nonetheless, nerves hit him as soon as he reaches the door. He stares at the worn wood, the shape of a mythosaur skull painted in white. The Keeper did not often call upon individuals, especially not someone like Din. They would often share knowledge at gatherings, or call for gatherings for that reason, but a private meeting? It wasn’t…  _ unheard _ of, exactly, just…. Extremely unusual.   
  
“Do not dally out there, Din Djarin.” The voice made him jump, then immediately feel ashamed. Din took a breath then stepped inside.

The room was warm, pleasant, with the smell of something sweet and woodsy. All about the room laid books and scrolls, data cards and pads, all styles of information saving. An old tapestry showing the history of their ancestors hung along one wall, and the skull of a mythosaur hung from the ceiling.   
  
Din tried not to feel like a little boy again, seeing Mandalorians for the first time. He breathed carefully. “You asked for me, Keeper?”   
  
The Keeper nodded, their gold helmet glinting in the light, fur on their shoulders swayed softly. They reminded Din, not for the first time, of the Armorer, those same symbols of status, but their designs still greatly differed, and the Keeper was not as heavily armored as most. The Keeper gestured to a small, short table flanked by two round pillows. Din inclined his head and knelt, waited, reminding himself to be patient. The Keeper, like the Armorer, liked to keep that air of mystery about them that had so intrigued him as a boy.   
  
“I have given it much thought,” The Keeper began, picking through some files. “This is not as common as it once was, but given the circumstances… I believe this is for the best.”   
  
And what the hell was that supposed to mean? Din gripped his knees, terrified. Was he to be kicked out? His helmet removed, the Creed stripped from him, and forced away from the only family he had left? He swallowed. “Keeper--”   
  
The Keeper turned to him, settled down opposite him, and set a small square in front of him. Din swallowed, staring at it, and for a moment that’s all that happened -- the two Mandalorians staring down at the unopened file, the sound of the wind outside, their steady breathing. Finally, Din tapped it.   
  
Up popped an image of another Mandalorian, information appearing at her side.  _ Kanna’Rok Tahl. Foundling. Devaronian. _ Her image spun around slowly as the text flickered, offering up her age, date of birth, height, weight, blood type, DNA, identifying armor features, history of her time with the clan and her time before. Her completed trainings, her proficiencies. Everything there was to know about Kanna’Rok, hovering before him.

Din looked up. “What is this?” Had she gone rogue? Betrayed them? Was he supposed to get rid of her quietly?   
  
“Your  _ riduurok _ .”   
  
Din stared. Surely he had misheard. “I--” his throat was dry, and he had to start over. “I am not married. I have no such bond.”   
  
The Keeper pushed the file closer. “Which is why I have arranged it.”   
  
“I--you-- _ what _ ?” Din’s face went warm, his entire body uncomfortable. “I -- I knew Kanna as a child. Barely. We have not spoken in  _ years _ . H-how -- why --”

The Keeper allowed his babbling for a moment longer before they inclined his head slowly, cutting him off. “This is the Way.”

Din’s mouth snapped shut. He  _ ached _ to demand answers, but he was not allowed. He managed, uncomfortably, “This… this is the Way.”   
  
The Keeper nodded, then rose to his feet, allowing Din to follow. “We have already arranged family living quarters--”

“ _ Family _ ?”   
  
They continued as if he said nothing, “--still within the community, but with a touch more privacy, and space for you two to grow. There you will begin to share your life, and you will be as one.”   
  
“Keeper--”   
  
“Tonight you will gather your things, then meditate over your new life. Select a weapon or piece of armor to gift your betrothed. At dawn you will meet her in front of your new dwelling, say your vows, then cross the threshold together. Then you may remove your helmets and become one. Tomorrow evening we will hold a celebration.”   
  
This was all too fast, his mind struggled to absorb this change while instinctively memorizing his every word. “But--”   
  
“Do you know the traditional vows?”   
  
“The -- no?”

_ "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde. _ "   
  
Din repeated it, quietly, and the Keeper nodded, stood at the door, and opened it for him. “We must continue our Creed in many ways, Din Djarin. This one is yours.”   
  
Din swallowed. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to demand clear answers, ask why this was suddenly thrust upon him, without any warning. Argue over his say in the matter. But it was clear the discussion was over. Clenching and relaxing his hands, Din let out a breath, inclined his head. “This is the Way.”   
  
The Keeper echoed the statement, a smile in their voice, and let him leave before slipping back inside, the door falling shut behind Din.   
  
Din grit his teeth. This was what was happening? A decision of who, if anyone, he wished to marry taken from him? Living in a partnership with a practical stranger? And with the expectation, certainly, of having children? But… how could he deny these people who had taken him in? Clothed him, fed him, accepted him, made him one of their own and trained in their ways... Everything he was now was because of the Mandalorians. He owed his life to them. He just thought… he thought that meant fighting to the death to defend the Way, not this.   
  
Din stalked back to his home, a simple one room construction with all the necessities. Before he managed to retreat to  _ meditate _ as suggested, a hand grabbed him and yanked him around. Din smacked out of the grip and moved to attack, only to find Paz standing there, unfazed.   
  
“Paz,” Din growled, lowering his arms.   
  
“That was fast. What happened?” It was hard to tell nowadays if his brother-in-arms was actually curious, concerned, or just nosey and looking for something to prod Din with later.   
  
Din decided not to bother to figure it out. He turned to keep walking, shoulders hunched. “None of your concern.”

“Come now,” Paz kept pace and Din growled, not even trying to hide it. “You’re all riled up, so  _ something _ interesting definitely happened. What, did you find out you’re actually a prince of a distant star system and have gotten called away to defend them?”   
  
Din spared him an incredulous look over his shoulder. “Have you been reading romance stories or something?” Paz shrugged, and this was  _ definitely _ something Din was going to have to explore more later, when he didn’t have a fucking  _ wedding _ to think about. He thought Paz was going to leave it at that, but the blue-armored man continued following him, even after he growled at him to leave twice more.   
  
“Din,” the man caught his shoulder before Din could make it to his door, and reluctantly allowed Paz to shove him around. Paz’s voice softened. “What’s wrong?”   
  
Din didn’t realize how tightly he had been holding himself until he mindfully worked at relaxing -- unclenching his jaw, letting his shoulders drop, uncurling his fingers, sinking his stance more securely into the earth. “The Keeper has…” his voice caught, and he struggled to continue. “Has arranged a marriage for me.”   
  
For a long moment, Paz said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood before him, visor focused on him, hand still on his pauldron. Then he doubled over laughing.   
  
“Fucking hell,” Din growled, smacking Paz’s hand off and shoving him away. He turned into his home and slammed the door far harder than necessary, but it didn’t block out Paz’s roaring laughter. Din pictured setting the man on fire as he started unclipping his armor.   
  
“I’ll have an extra drink in your honor tonight, Djarin!” Paz called through the door, and fortunately after that Din could hear him leaving, the sound of his laughter and heavy footfalls fading. 

.x.

Din had done as he was told. He meditated, gathered his meager items, and laid out all his weapons and armor in consideration as to what would make a good wedding gift. He had no idea. Ideally, maybe, one day, he’d meet someone he wished to be bound to, maybe make them something, give himself time considering a weapon that most suited them, a piece of armor they might need, or a rare and useless but sentimental valuable he knew they would like.   
  
He knelt in the middle of his home, eyes shut, focusing on the sound of the crackling fire of his small stove. Kanna’Rok. He could vaguely remember her -- red-orange skin, dirty and badgered, her form tall but thin, painfully so, her cheeks caved in, dark circles beneath eyes -- purple eyes, he remembers with a jolt. He remembers as a boy thinking how strange but pretty they were. An older mandalorian who’s name he didn’t quite remember had brought her one day. Another orphan. Din hadn’t heard her story, but he imagined from how ragged she had looked it hadn’t been easy. He remembers her hair, a dark mess, braided in a poor attempt to hide the mass of knots. He wonders if she had ever cut it short to better fit beneath the helmets they all wore.   
  
And still, he doesn’t remember much. She spent some time here, but like many of the war orphans, had moved on to another clan, one that regularly met with Din’s own but still distant enough that Din’s few meetings with her were just that. He was certain that they had likely passed one another since then, but nothing that would help prepare him for being her husband.   
  
Din sighed, frowned, and stared down at his weapons and armor and instead thought of what he would want, what someone could give him that would feel special, make them feel protected the way he and all his brothers-in-arms felt the day they received their helmets.   
  
He wondered, then, as his bare hands hovered over his weapons, if Kanna was somewhere nearby doing the same, thinking the same.   
  
  
  
.x.

Din woke before dawn and gathered his things, taking his time putting on his armor, slowly covering up every inch of his skin until only his face remained bare, his helmet resting on his cot, watching him. He checked his gift again, unwrapped it from its soft, silky red cloth then wrapped it back up once more, telling himself it was the right choice. His only choice, right now.   


The single sun was just casting long, golden streams of shadows and light criss-crossing his path by the time he arrived at the modest building. A figure was kneeling a few yards from the door, her back to him. Din’s breath caught.   
  
This was really happening.   
  
He let out a slow, controlled breath. Relaxed his shoulders. Thought he caught her form tensing in response. Still, she did not move. Din walked silently over to her side, mindful of the long, wrapped object laid across her lap, and lowered down to his knees, staring at the front door of the home they would share.   
  
The ground was soft beneath his knees. Birds hummed and cooed in the nearby forest. Every pebble and blade of grass and clump of dirt in front of him cast long, strange shadows. A slight breeze tickled the nape of his neck, teased beneath his helmet.   
  
“Din.”   
  
He let out a breath. “Kanna.”   
  
He heard the gentle creak of her leather gloves tightening around the long gift in her lap, noted that it was wrapped carefully in black fabric. He turned his head just enough so he could see her from the edge of his vision, her silver helmet with its curved, feminine visor, edges painted red-orange. Her flak vest was black, while the rest of her canvas a dark shade of blue, her armor worn and mismatched like the rest of them, in blues, whites, and yellows where the paint wasn’t worn down. Her helmet shifted slightly, just enough that he could feel her eyes on him in turn.   
  
“When were you told?”   
  
Din let out a little huff, not quite a laugh, feeling some of the tension in his chest loosen. “Last night.”    
  
“Me too.” He can hear the smile in her voice, feel the camaraderie in her presence now rather than this tension. “Did the Keeper ask you?”   
  
Din tipped his head. “It wasn’t an option.”   
  
Kanna took a deep breath, let it out slow, the sound strange and harsh through their helms. “Yeah.”   
  
They fell silent again, listening only to the rustling of leaves, the call of birds. It was peaceful. Not… horribly awkward, but almost like meditating with his peers as a boy. Taking stock of every part of his body, finding the stiffness in his knees, the ache in his legs, accepting it and banishing it. Except now it wasn’t just his muscles and joints, but the way his heart thudded, his stomach fluttered in anticipation, his blood hummed that he should be angry at being forced into this.   
  
“My mother had a wedding dress,” Kanna said softly, her voice just barely breaking his thoughts. He turned enough to watch her, inclined his head to show he was listening. “Long. Intricate. Lace and bells. Hand painted. She said I would wear it one day.”   
  
Din had never given much thought to weddings, but accepted that maybe sitting in the dirt in the armor you wore every day in the silence of the dawn was maybe not the way some wished to be married. “I’m sorry.”   
  
Kanna shook her head, her voice soft. “This is the Way.”   
  
Din sighed. “This is the Way.”   
  
Kanna nodded, then pushed to her feet, turning to face him as he followed. She took a deep breath, then said firmly, “We are one when together.”   
  
Din’s chest tightened. This was really happening. “ _ Mhi solus tome,” _ he repeated. _   
_ _   
_ “We are one when parted.” _   
_ _   
_ _ “Mhi solus dar'tome.” _

  
“We will share all.”   
  


“ _ Mhi me'dinui an.” _ _   
_ _   
_ “We--” she faltered, and he couldn’t blame her. He wondered if she wanted to turn and run from this as much as he did. “We will raise warriors.”   
  
“ _ Mhi... ba'juri verde.” _   
  
Kanna let out a shaky breath, and held out her gift. He handed her his smaller one, feeling anxious about it now in the face of whatever Kanna had chosen for him, and for a moment they stood there holding each other’s gifts, awkwardly waiting to see who would move first. Kanna shifted her weight, Din adjusted his grip, and finally Din just nodded. Kanna turned the package over in her hands a moment, Din watching the way her black leather gloves carefully handled the fine red fabric, and tensed as she finally unwrapped it.   
  
A beskar blade.   
  
“Din,” she breathed, holding it up, turning it around to study the runes etched down the center, gliding her fingertip down the curve of it. Din swallowed.   
  
“Is it okay?” He asked, voice soft, huskier than he meant it to be.   
  
“It’s beautiful.” Her voice was soft, sweet, a whispered coo that Din hadn’t heard its kin since he was a child. She looked up at him, and he found himself grateful he couldn’t see her eyes, and that she couldn’t see his face. It was too much. “Thank you.”   
  
Din just nodded, mouth dry. Kanna kept looking at him, and he stupidly couldn’t remember why until she inclined her head and he remembered the object in his hands. “Oh.” He cleared his throat, and carefully undid the wrappings. It was nearly his height, and he was wondering if it was some kind of bo staff or electrostaff, but was wrong on both counts. He unwrapped the long, well-kept rifle and stared at it, awed and excited. “A pulse rifle?” Kanna nodded as he turned it carefully around, inspected its shaft, its sniper scope, brought it to the crook of his shoulder to get a feel for it, it’s comforting heft in his hand. Gods, he already wanted to test it out.   
  
“You like it?”   
  
Din looked up at her, a warm kinship blooming in his chest at her shy, hopeful tone.    
  
“It’s perfect.”

  
  
.x.

  
  
They crossed the threshold together and looked around their new house. It opened up first into a round, main room that would fit them both comfortably, finding it already partially furnished. The kitchen on the far side of the room, and after a moment Kanna moved over to it so Din looked around at the other rooms. One held a small, empty room. Too big for simple storage. Next to that was a refresher, and across from that a room with a proper bed, big enough to sleep two--   
  
Oh.   
  
_ Oh. _   
  
Din had been so caught up in his lack of choice and deciding on a gift that he hadn’t stopped to really, actually, fully consider this.   
  
“The kitchen is stocked--” Kanna’s voice made him jump, turn to find her walking towards him, though she froze and moved for her blaster at the way he startled. When he only stared at her, she straightened back up. “We’ve all the food and drink we need. Even  _ ne’tra gal _ . Dishes for cooking, and so on. I guess they set it all up already -- what’s wrong?”   
  
Din stupidly wanted to close the door and pretend it was nothing, but there was no point hiding it. He stood aside, nodded into the room. Kanna eyed him for a moment before moving closer, stepping close enough to touch as she peered through. “Wow, a real bed. I’m so used to cots now, bet it will be stra--” she trailed off, mid-word.  _ There it is. _ “Ah… oh.” She moved back a bit, looked at him. “The other rooms?”   
  
Din nodded to each. “Empty. Refresher.”   
  
“Ah.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
They were close enough to touch if either reached out, but neither risked it. He studied her helmet, tried to memorize its features the way he figured others memorized faces, studied the fleck over her left eye where a bit of paint had rubbed off, looking almost like a scar.   
  
“What did…” Kanna started, and Din refocused. “What did the Keeper tell you?”   
  
Din frowned. “That… we could remove our helmets…”   
  
Kanna nodded. “Right. Because we’re -- we’re family, now.”   
  
Din nodded too, throat tight. “And that we would become one.” He noticed the way Kanna’s thumb rubbed over the palm of her same hand in a subtle, nervous gesture, so he tried moving further back, but found his back at the edge of the door frame already. “We don’t have to. I won’t do anything you don’t want--”   
  
Kanna let out a rough breath, something between a laugh and a snort. “Like the entirety of this marriage?” She spat with the first bit of anger he’d seen today. But she immediately pulled herself together. “Sorry. It’s not your fault.”   
  
Din shook his head. “Yours either.”   
  
Kanna looked away. “I’m going to… check supplies…” She shifted her weight and Din nodded, watching as she stalked to the other side of the room.   
  
They spent the next few hours dancing around each other. Kanna took out everything from the drawers and cabinets and then put them back, then repeated the action and organized them in a different way. He noted the way she kept some food and drink out for a few minutes as if to consume it, only to remember he was here and then put them back. Din decided to check through the refresher, finding it equipped with everything they needed, including an impressive medical kit, and… pregnancy tests.   
  
He buried those to the bottom of the deepest drawer.   
  
When he found her rearranging the kitchen for a third time, he sat on the stiff, simple sofa at the other end of the room and set his rifle on the short, rectangular table there. He ran his fingers over it, listening to the gentle clicking and soft thumps of Kanna fiddling nearby, and familiarized himself with the weapon. He took it apart and put it back together, then did it again, then started to a third time when Kanna slammed a cupboard shut.   
  
“This is stupid.” She declared. He looked up at her, watched as she stalked up to him, stared as she stopped in front of him and held out her hand. Her glove was black, the leather worn smooth and supple, and he shifted his own fingers within his red-brown gloves. Din gave her (and him, too) a moment to retract the advance, but when she remained there, patient, he grasped her hand and got to his feet, heart thudding. She led him into the bedroom they had both been carefully avoiding with a determined stride that he commended her for. He certainly hadn’t been about to make the first move.   


Din blindly shut the door behind them, enclosing them in this windowless room. Kanna stepped into his space, her breaths coming out stuttered through her helm, and she backed him against the door until the armor of their thighs scraped. He shifted his stance as if to make room, and she did as well, their bodies trying to find a way not to bother the other but instead slotted together, thighs slipped between each other’s. Din sucked in a breath as her thigh pressed between his legs and she shifted as if to move away, but Din caught her belt and she stilled. She let out a shaky breath, inclined her helmet just a bit, and leaned in, slotting their hips together.   
  
Their breaths were loud this close, a rough sound and the only between them save for the gentle scrape of their armor, the soft creak of leather. Din tipped his head down, letting their helmets clink together and felt her tense again at the keldabe kiss. She squeezed his hand, let her other trail up his cuirass, palm settling over his iron heart while the one inside his chest pounded. He shifted his grip from her belt to her hip, where armor gave way for thick blue material. He pressed his thumb against it until he heard her intake of breath. She raised her hand to the material at his neck and collar bone, pressing curious circles into it with her fingertips.   
  
“Do you remember?” She breathed, barely a break from the silence.   
  
Din shifted their grip until their fingers entwined, gave them a little squeeze. “What?”   
  
Kanna swallowed. “You have dark hair. Tan skin… you never smiled much.”   
  
“Didn’t have a lot of reasons to…” Din murmured, remembering those first few years here, coming into this community of armored strangers, struggling to handle his loss, and for all the Mandalorian’s gave him, warm smiles and soft motherly touches were not one of them, something he had desperately needed. He thought back, though, to the stringy red girl grasping a mandalorian’s hand and watching them with wild, purple eyes. “Did you cut your hair?”   
  
Kanna let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Seemed pointless to keep it long.” Din hummed, but the sound caught in his throat as Kanna’s hand inched up his neck, slipping just beneath his helmet. “Did you ever grow a beard?”   
  
“Sometimes,” Din said with that same awkward laugh.   
  
“Now?” Her fingers continued up until he felt the glide of her glove against the edge of his jaw. He swallowed.   
  
“Did you…” his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, noting the way Kanna had stilled. “Did you want to find out?”   
  
Kanna didn’t answer, though her hand remained clutching his own tight, her other index finger sliding mere centimeters along the edge of his jaw, setting a fire deep in his gut, a heat gathering at the base of his spine. “I’m Devaronian.”   
  
Din rubbed her hip gently. “I know.”   
  
“That... doesn’t bother you?”   
  
“Why would it?” Din frowned, kept her close. “We’re Mandalorians.”   
  
Kanna let out a breath, tipped her helmet to knock the lower half against his. “ _ Aliit ori’shya tal’din,” _ she murmured with the rhythm of something said often.  _ Family is more than blood. _ Once again, he wondered how she came to be here, what happened to her blood family.   
  
He slid his hand from her hip to her lower back. “ _ We _ are family now.” Which was… still a strange concept, but one he had an easier time offering for her comfort rather than thinking too much about.   
  
“We didn’t choose to be.”   
  
Din let out a breath. “No.” They fell silent for a moment, neither moving save for the subtle stroke of fingers. Din gave her hand a squeeze, then loosened his grasp. “Did you--”   
  
She held fast, slid her hand from his jaw to cup the back of his neck. “No.” Her voice was quiet, firm, but fell into something more shy as she continued, starting to move away. “Unless you…”   
  
He caught her hips, pulled her to him once again, certain in his half of this push-and-pull they struggled at. “ _ Mhi solus tome, _ ” he reminded her, knocking their helmets together. “We may not have chosen to be together, but we can decide how we  _ live _ together.”   
  
He felt her shudder, heard her little exhale. “And how should we start?”   
  
It was a good question, with a lot of answers, some of which Din was uncertain were right. He was nervous to be vulnerable, but excited too. His chest pounded at the prospect of seeing her, really  _ seeing _ her, and touching her, and sharing so much of himself with her that no one else had ever had. But this wasn’t something that would end tonight. This was, as she said, the start. They were one, now. They couldn’t treat this, any of this, the way they were used to as individuals. He caught her hand again, brought it up between them, pressed it over his  _ kar’ta beskar. _ “Helmets?”   
  
After a moment, Kanna nodded, their helmets clinking once more before she leaned back, took a step out of his space, and Din found himself immediately missing her warmth. She set her hands on her helmet, and he could feel her watching him, waiting, so he did the same. For a long moment that was it, they remained frozen, hands on their own helmets, about to do the very thing their Creed forbid them -- take their helmets off in front of another. It didn’t matter that this was the exception, that this was allowed -- Din was so used to  _ never take off your helmet in front of another _ and  _ never let your helmet be removed by another _ that this still somehow felt wrong.   
  
“This is harder than I expected,” Din admitted, and it got a laugh from the other, a breathless, uncontrolled sound. Her shoulders shook and she leaned over a bit, her laugh a proper one rather than just the single, breathed ones to release nerves.   
  
“Yeah,” Kanna managed, and he could hear the smile in her voice, making him smile in turn. She straightened back up, got a better grip of her helmet. “Together?”   
  
Din nodded. “Together.”   
  
And… they did. They slowly, achingly, watching each other’s fingers the entire time, lifted their helmets off their heads. Din blinked against the difference of vision, slowly lowering his helmet and holding it against his side as he stared at her. At her face.   
  
Her skin was the same red-orange he remembered, like the color of the sunset, her now wide eyes that same striking violet that stole his breath. Two black marks -- tattoos? -- dotted her cheeks on either side, beneath her eyes, while above her brow protruded two black bumps, vestigial horns. Her lips were parted slightly, her cheeks a darker shade than the rest of her now, and her ears curved into a gentle point. Her dark hair, as she said, was cut short save for two thin braids framing either side of her face, stopping just past her jaw.   
  
Something moved towards him just outside his vision and Din jumped, causing Kanna to jump back a step as well, eyes going even wider. Her hand hovered between them, and he realized he’d been spooked by just that. He let out a breath which turned into a laugh, heard Kanna’s own unfiltered one follow, and soon they were a snickering and giggling mess, their hands reaching and touching, threading together as they leaned in, laughing at their own awkwardness. It was nice, Din thought. 

  
Their foreheads touched as their laughter pittered out, and then they were just breathing, sharing breath. He could  _ feel _ the heat of her skin against his face, the brush of her breath against his own lips. He tipped his chin a little closer, and she lifted hers, and their lips brushed. A light, gentle, uncertain kiss. She squeezed his hand, and he let out a little, shaky breath and Kanna leaned in a little closer, kissing more firmly now. It was intensely strange, to actually kiss and be kissed, but  _ gods _ did it stoke a fire in his belly.   
  
He chased her kiss as she leaned back, and she allowed another lingering brush before pushing their joined hands against his chest lightly. “Have you ever…”   
  
Din’s cheeks warmed, then started burning when he realized his embarrassment would be obvious now, bare-faced. But Kanna seemed to respond in kind, her skin darkening into patchy spots of deeper red. Din cleared his throat, looked down just so he didn’t have to look at her for a minute, thinking of the few hurried hand-jobs he’d had.   
  
“Nothing like… this.” Never taking off helmets, never much more than brief flashes of skin and a quick chase of pleasure.   
  
Kanna nodded, and when he looked up he found her biting her lower lip in nerves, and  _ gods _ did it make his stomach flip. He wanted to kiss her again. Then remembered he  _ could _ , so leaned in, and she met him halfway, her lips slightly parted this time, and he considered the shape of her lips with his own, then gave her lower lip a little nibble.   
  
She gasped, shuddered, and pulled back, wide-eyed. For half a second he thought he’d done something wrong, offended her somehow, but then she squeezed his hand again and yanked him towards her, and kissed him with a vigor that made his mind go blank. His hand slipped up her armor and around to cup the back of her head while her fingers trailed over his jaw, the shadow of stubble there. He moved to hold her with his other arm, only to nearly drop his helmet, jerking out of the kiss to hold onto it.   
  
Kanna let out a breath, then a laugh, and fixed her grip on her own then stepped away from Din. Disappointment flashed through him, but he watched as she took another step away, her gaze seemingly on his mouth which tingled now, and then the devaronian turned and set her helmet in the armor locker. She stared at it a moment, and Din found himself doing the same, moving over to the one beside it. He carefully placed his helmet into his side of the unit, then stared with Kanna at them both.   
  
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” She whispered, looking dazed. “It’s  _ us _ now.”

He considered their helmets sitting side by side, the rest of the dips where the rest of their armor would be kept when not worn. He stared at his own helmet, the face he more often saw in reflections than his own, and Kanna’s with it’s curved visor lined with a red-orange he now realized matched her skin. Their helmets were different, but both served the same purpose. Both forged from beskar. Both marked them as mandalorian.

Din took a slow breath, glanced at her and how she looked nervous now, so he tentatively brushed his fingers over her hand. She flexed her own open, so he slipped his hand into hers, gave it a little squeeze, then caught her gaze. “ _Mhi solus.”_   
  
We are one.  
  
Kanna smiled softly, a shy look, and by the gods did it get his heart racing, to see her emotions so thoroughly on display for him. She turned towards him, stepped into his space, then looked up at him, blushing deeply. He touched her jaw, just barely with the glove covered tips of his fingers, stroking up to her cheek, tracing the black marks along her cheekbones. She covered his hand with hers, then pulled it away, and cold nerves rushed through him until she took that hand between both of her own, slid one down to the cuff. Her eyes flickered between it and his own expression, waiting for him to tell her to stop, but he simply swallowed and nodded, let her pull off his glove. She studied his hand for a moment, turning it over between her own black-gloved ones, tracing a few scars along the backs of his hands, then guided his palm back against her face. Her eyes fluttered shut and she nuzzled into his palm, and Din promptly forgot how to breathe.  
  
She was so warm beneath his hand, their skin touching. He slowly stroked her cheek, down to her jaw again, grazed his thumb over her dark lips and _shuddered_ at the feel of them, at the way they parted for him and how her own breath shook, her own body shuddered. Still cupping her face, he leaned in, this time pressing his lips to her cheek, her jaw, and then her mouth once more.  
  
As soon as he did she pressed up against him, hands coming up to -- _gods_ \-- she stroked his hair, moved her fingers up and down the back of his head, playing with the unruly locks there, and a pathetic, needy groan slipped from their kiss Din was embarrassed to realize was his own. He tugged her closer and kissed her eagerly, nibbling curiously at her bottom lip to elicit those lovely little body shudders and soft, needy sounds from her. He heard something soft drop on the floor behind him, and was about to look when she dragged her nails up his scalp.  
  
“ _Gods_ \--”

Her kiss smothered his words, but he was more than happy to give them up, kiss her back eagerly. She kept dragging her fingers through his hair, causing shivers to rock down his spine, blood rush south far faster than he could ever recall. Her kisses turned fierce, hungry, searching, and he struggled to keep up, especially with the way he could hardly breathe from her nails grazing over his scalp and fingertips sliding down his cheeks. She pulled back and Din opened his eyes, staring at her, watching the way her eyes searched his face. His _face._   
  
“I like it,” she decided, palms rubbing against his scruff, and he couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
“Glad to hear it.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tipped his head to kiss her palm, which earned him a soft intake of breath from her that made his insides flutter. She kissed him again, and he dropped a hand to her hip, tugging him against her and sliding his hand around her lower back, feeling around the beskar and durasteel for the thick material that covered her skin. When she stopped to breathe, Din mouthed along her jaw, fascinated by the feel of her soft skin and hard bone beneath his lips and teeth and the sharp, slightly metal taste that lingered along her skin. He tugged her closer, fingers digging into the material of her flak.  
  
“More?” Kanna breathed, hands falling to his pauldrons. He hummed, tested her skin with his teeth, then leaned back, blinking slow at her.  
  
“Do you… want more?”  
  
For a moment Kanna didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t breathe and Din felt his entire orbit come crashing into a halt, seconds away from plummeting into hers.  
  
And she nodded.  
  
They worked at their own armor, and Din noted with relief that he wasn’t the only one trembling, struggling with the belts and clicks and fasteners that had come a second skin to him. He was also rather proud that they were managing to set the armor in the right spot, despite the way his skin tingled and he wanted to just rip everything away without a thought -- which was terrifying to think about, considering how much he depending on every inch of that armor. By the time he had taken off all his armored outer layers that left him in his softer underthings, Kanna was leaned over slightly tugging off her shirt. Her back flexed, a lovely play of her red-orange skin with paler pocks and darker marks from living life as a warrior. She looked back at him, blinking as if startled, and his gaze dropped down to the black bra strapped across her chest, the line of her stomach and jut of her hips, now on display for him.  
  
It wasn’t that he had never seen attractive women, and men. He’d been propositioned by many of each, of several species, many of which walked around in _far_ less that even what Kanna wore now. But this was different. Not only was Kanna on display, but so was _he._ They were baring themselves for one another, when usually every inch of skin was covered up, when they were more familiar with their helmets and armor than their own faces.  
  
Kanna’s eyes had dropped to his chest in turn, the neck of the shirt dipping over his collar bone. He reached up and grabbed at the back of his shirt, watching her gaze climb up over his arms and round back to his face. She blushed but didn’t look away, so he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor, the action freeing and vaguely rebellious in a way that got his blood bumping. She grinned, for the first time, and he noted her sharpened canines. She rubbed her thumb over the palm of that same hand -- that same motion he saw before -- and bit her lower lip, eyes flickering over him, making his own face burn. She flexed her fingers out, in, then out again, then lifted a hand out to him.  
  
Din's heart was racing, nervous and uncertain and excited all balled up within his gut, and without her helmet, Kanna's face was easy to read. She was just as nervous, just as unsure, and still she reached for him.  
  
And... that was what this would be now, wasn't it? The Keeper put them together, and so together they would be.  
  
Din let out a slow breath, and took her hand.

.x.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact, in an attempt to flesh kanna out, i started writing her with a friend, and now she's a super space lesbian instead pffft it's great. 
> 
> i have several other things planned (including an actual sex scene) that... may or may not ever see the light of day. who knows. i don't even know if anyone is still interested in OCs in the fandom.


End file.
